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JOHN SWEET
effigy 2 but you cannot be beautiful in the room of mirrors you cannot discuss belief on a dead-end street look the face of god is everywhere the pain of christ is everyone's and i think the burning girl knew this if only for the last few terrified seconds of her life and i think that her death was probably meaningless and i think that yours will be too and mine when it comes and i have all of history to back me up on this i have the names of every vanished child of the fathers who murdered them and the mothers who held their hands to lit burners and i would make these fuckers suffer if i could i would let the dogs lick the blood from their corpses would piss on their graves and i'll agree with you when you tell me that violence is not the solution to violence and then i'll tell you about the couple who filmed themselves raping a four year-old paraplegic girl i'll tell you again if you want me to and even if you don't it's not a thing that should ever be forgotten notes on freedom he says there has to be something more than anger and despair says a poem should be a mirror not a jagged shard of glass not a broken window in a burning house but let’s face it neither of us has ever had to jump from the 98th floor we never knew black kettle never found the corpse of the woman we love dumped like so much trash on the outskirts of juarez and it’s not america i hate but the fuckers making their fortunes off the butchered bodies of soldiers and children and i refuse to call it democracy if every politician is for sale look at these men who would rape your daughters look at their wives smiling naked and wet up into the light of god consider how much shit you’ve ever had to eat for the good of the many poem to hide from my children or something as simple as young girls left to die in windowless rooms something as american as wealth for the chosen few the indians kicked out of their trailers and the mothers arrested in front of their children nothing as obvious as a massacre no wasted motion in the back of the hand across the face and what i’ve said from the beginning is that equality is a lie what i refuse to do is lick the ass of any self-proclaimed king and i don’t believe in violence but i understand the attraction picture your teenage daughter on her hands and knees being fucked by a politician your eight year-old son raped by a priest or what about the men who would protect the predators? can you picture their throats slashed wide open or their houses in flames? there are so many deaths i will never weep for john sweet, 35 and counting, angry, bitter, etc etc, hiding in a pissant town in upstate new york, a believer in very little. a follower of the writings of j. pollock and of the words of h. frayne. too much education, and still a shit job. recent publications include the chapbook Enemy (www.pinkanarchkittypress.com), the full length collection Human Cathedrals (www.ravennapress.com) and the electronic chapbook Silence in the House of Truths (www.tmpoetry.com). |
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